


The Spice of Life

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Prurience [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Shop, Sex Toys, Spitroasting, Table Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Tom Riddle, Top Tom Riddle Sr., Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20283127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Thanks toEnjeruTanteifor betaing ❤️❤️❤️





	The Spice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [EnjeruTantei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjeruTantei/pseuds/EnjeruTantei) for betaing ❤️❤️❤️

It was a bright, beautiful day, and Harry had never wanted to run and hide his face more than he did right at this second.

He had walked past this particular block so many times he knew exactly how many steps it took to walk from one end to the other. It was getting concerning—he was getting strange looks, and yet Harry could not overcome the sense of shame that threatened to overflow and force him to retreat.

Objectively he knew there was nothing wrong with this—sex was a healthy,  _ normal _ part of life, and nothing to be ashamed of. But still, the irrational fear of being recognised and judged for stepping into a  _ sex shop _ of all places made him flush horribly, his eyes darting around the street for a familiar face.

It took him a few more turns about the block before he finally decided enough was enough. Squaring his shoulders, he neared the unobtrusive little shop with purpose, trying not to pay attention to the bold, loud lettering proclaiming the existence of the 'Come and Go' shop, and kept his head firmly lowered. He slid open the door quickly and stepped in, and then there was just the quiet, artificially lit shop.

There was nobody at the counter. Harry supposed they'd disappeared into the back, and thanked his lucky stars that there was nobody to receive him as he hurried behind one of the shelves. It took him a while to realise what was in front of him, and even longer to register how many different  _ types _ there were.

He was standing in the dildo aisle, and frankly, the size of some of these things made him shiver with an odd mixture of fear and, dare he say it,  _ curiosity _ . There were regular dildos that just looked normal, rubber and straight with a vague head at the end. There were others too—one had balls attached, another was double-ended, and there was even one that had a thinner shaft alongside the regular dildo. Harry supposed that one was for people with vaginas. Most surprising, however, was that as Harry walked down the length of the aisle he realised some of the shapes didn't even look  _ human _ .

There was one that caught his eye, and he couldn't help but pick up the unpackaged model to examine it. The toy was coloured bright purple, fading into green the further it got to the base, but what made Harry so interested was how absolutely  _ huge _ it was. Not only was it incredibly long, it was also so wide Harry couldn't get his hand all the way around its girth. He thought about what it might be like to use it with a strangely dangerous thrill in his stomach, and immediately put it down, shaking the thought of it out of his head quickly.

Except, it seemed, not soon enough.

Harry wondered, briefly, how he hadn't even noticed he wasn't alone, but when the stranger came closer he had other things to worry about.

"Riddle?" He asked, incredulous, then wished he'd kept his mouth shut and left. He stepped back, nervous, and Tom stepped forward, maintaining the same distance between them. There was a smug turn to his lips that Harry didn't like.

"That's a pretty sizable dildo you were looking at, Potter," he said. "Didn't peg you for that sort."

"What-" Harry tried to say, but Riddle didn't seem to be listening.

"Then again," he continued, "I suppose it is always the quiet ones who get up to the freakiest shit."

" _ What? _ " Harry repeated, this time louder. "I'm not—I would never— _ that thing would tear me in half _ !"

Riddle was quiet for a second. He looked over at the dildo Harry had been holding, looking back at Harry's face and then his crotch like he'd be able to see something just like that, and suddenly Harry felt very naked in his jeans and t-shirt.

"No, I think we could make it fit," Riddle mused airily. "All you'd need is a little...  _ help _ ."

He looked at Harry meaningfully, smirking in what he  _ had _ to think was a handsome manner. Harry wondered if this was Riddle’s attempt at trying to flirt with him.

He let his gaze fall to Riddle's shirt, and then frowned at the black tag, bright pink text proclaiming his classmate's name. "Riddle," he asked slowly. "Do you work here?" It felt a little like a fever dream, if Harry was being honest.

But Riddle just nodded, apparently unconcerned with his current position. "Of course. I'm happy to assist in any way you might need." And he reached forward to grasp Harry's bicep, steering him further down the shelves.

"For example," he said. "For a newbie like you, I'd recommend something much smaller, like this." He pushed another dildo into Harry's hands, this one much smaller than the one Harry had been looking at, and much less...  _ monster-like _ . He accepted the toy, understanding that this was probably more his level, and yet he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Riddle laughed, almost as if he could read Harry's mind. "Oh don't worry, Potter," he murmured slyly. "We'll train you to take dick yet."

Harry shuddered. "I have no idea what you might mean," he said stubbornly, then looked back down at the toy in his hands. "Besides, I'm not even sure if this is what I want, so-"

"I see." Riddle frowned, but he didn't look upset. In fact, he looked excited. Harry didn't think it boded well for him.

"We wouldn't want to leave you disappointed, would we," Riddle was saying. "No, that wouldn't do at all, let's see." He grabbed onto Harry's arm and pulled him along, walking up and down the various shelves and picking up things at random, inspecting Harry carefully before adding it to the pile or discarding the item.

It continued until there were stranger and stranger things in Harry's arms, most of which he found himself unbearably curious about. There were dildos, Harry could tell, and what he was sure was a vibrator. Further than that, though, his mind went blank. The more ground they covered, the stranger the toys got, and Harry wasn't even sure where some of them would go, or even fit. He certainly wasn't well acquainted with the world of sex toys, but even so, he was astounded at the variety of things that were available.

When he was done, Riddle pulled him over to the front of the store. Harry couldn't help but feel particularly shameless, standing in an open space with things meant for sex piled high in his arms, but Riddle didn't even bat an eye. He reached for a door behind the counter and beckoned Harry in, waiting for him to enter first.

"After all," he said, "seems I've got something to prove to you."

"Prove something to me? What on earth do you mean?" Harry asked, but his attention was caught by the room he was led into.

It was a wide room—wider than he'd realised possible, with the look of the shop from the outside. There was a large, tall desk over to one side, an armchair behind it, and a black couch at the other end. Riddle made him put the things down on the desk, but when Harry tried to sit he delivered a firm swat to his behind.

"No, no, Harry," he admonished. "I can't possibly demonstrate these toys to you if you're  _ sitting _ . Now," and he reached for the smaller, more average dildo he'd first recommended to Harry.

"Let's start with this."

Harry eyes widened, but before he could step away or say anything, Riddle was treading his fingers into Harry's hair and holding his head in place.

"You'll know where this goes, of course," Riddle said expectantly. Harry tried to nod, but when Riddle's hold didn't let him, he agreed verbally instead.

Riddle smiled. "Like I was telling you Harry, if you want to get to taking a large one you'll have to work your way up. Bend over."

He didn't realise what Riddle meant at first, and then it clicked. "Sorry,  _ what _ ?"

"Bend. Over," Riddle repeated. He let Harry's hair slide from between his fingers and stepped back, gesturing at the table before him. "I can't possibly demonstrate this to you if you're standing."

"I—I don't know—" Harry stammered, but Riddle just looked at him, unaffected.

"Exactly," he said, "you  _ don't _ know." And then, stepping closer, he pushed a finger under Harry's chin to tilt it up.

"I'll take care of you, Potter."

Riddle's lips were softer than his hands, which pushed into Harry's waist until he was sure there'd be bruises. It was over far too soon, and then Riddle was gesturing wordlessly at the desk again. He shouldn't want to, Harry thought, but despite the strangeness and spontaneous nature of the situation, he found he  _ wanted _ to obey.

And so he did.

He stepped over to the desk and, tentatively, bent over to rest his arms on the surface. Riddle came up beside him, rubbing his hand soothingly over Harry's back until some of the tension drained out of him, and he softened into the pose.

"That's it," Riddle murmured, reaching around him to undo his trousers. Harry fought to stay calm, but couldn't help but hyper-focus on every step Riddle made, in his every breath and touch. Riddle loosened his belt and then stroked his hand over Harry's clothed arse, his touch rough and warm and full of such  _ intent _ that it made Harry want to plead for him to hurry already.

But Riddle seemed to prefer taking his time. He rubbed at Harry's arse, pinching the flesh through his ratty jeans, and when Harry finally asked him to get on with it, he laughed and said, "I'm only trying to ease you into this, darling."

The pet name did something to him. Harry felt himself acquiescing, and though a part of him wanted to argue back and fight just for the sake of not obeying, the majority of him just felt so  _ good _ he couldn't focus on anything but the way Riddle's touch made him feel full of sunlight.

By the time Riddle finally pulled his jeans over his arse and off, Harry felt like a pile of melted goo. He didn't even care that Riddle was looking at his bare arse, didn't care that Riddles warm, long fingers were pushing teasingly at his hole—in fact, he could even say he was relieved. After all, Riddle  _ had _ promised to look after him.

"Take care to listen, Harry," Riddle said. Harry thought he rather liked this better than 'Potter', and made it known with an agreeable groan.

"I'm sure you've used lube before," Riddle said. As he did, he picked up a small bottle and uncapped it, pushing some out onto his fingers. He rubbed them together to warm it up, and when Harry didn't reply, pushed the tip of one slick finger just barely into Harry's arse.

Harry moaned, trying to angle his face to look at Riddle's face, but his vision had suddenly gone blurry, and Riddle was too tall like this anyway. He settled for looking at Riddle's bicep flexing under his sleeve, and pushed out onto Riddle's finger.

"I can take more," he managed, his voice much more hoarse than it had any right to be. Riddle chuckled, drizzling more lube on his arse and then pushing another finger in.

"Not completely new after all," he said, then leaned in closer so that his mouth was at Harry's ear. "But I'm going to take my time with you, Potter." His voice was full of dark promises, and Harry wanted nothing more than to extend time so they'd have time for all of it.

"Harry," he whispered instead.

"What?” Riddle asked. He pushed in a third finger, twisting them just  _ so _ and making Harry's knees feel so weak that he was grateful for the desk currently holding him up.

"Harry," he repeated, his fingers clenching uselessly into the wood. "Please,  _ more _ ."

Riddle pushed his fingers into Harry's hair again, pulling at it until he was forced to look into Riddle's eyes. "I can do that," he said, "as long as you call me Tom."

Riddle's grasp on his hair tightened the longer Harry remained silent, until eventually he twisted his fingers just  _ so _ , and Harry felt himself coming apart.

"Yes, yes,  _ please _ ," he gasped, and then whined loudly when Riddle removed his fingers. Not that it seemed to have any effect. Riddle merely picked up the dildo again, slicking it up and pressing it against Harry's open arse, where he paused.

"Please what?" he asked. The pressure against his hole increased, and just as Harry thought about pushing into it, Riddle's hand came down on the small of his back. He held him down, firm, and didn't budge when Harry looked up at him pleadingly.

"Please, Tom," he said eventually. "Please, just let me-" and he widened his stance, his arse tilting up invitingly. Riddle—or Tom, Harry should really call him Tom—laughed at that, amusement in his tone.

"Oh, I just love how desperate you are," he said, his voice so low that Harry wasn't even sure if it had been meant for his ears. But then Tom was pushing the fake cock into him, the pace so slow that Harry could feel the seconds stretching into eternity, and Harry couldn't even breathe right anymore.

He could feel every inch, the way the shape of the toy made his arse stretch, the slow feeling of being filled more, and more, until Harry felt he'd broken some record.

This was nothing compared to the fingers.

He'd never felt so full before, never felt the constant stimulation of something so big inside him. Fingers felt almost insignificant compared to this, he thought—much too thin to make him tremble like this.

And still, he looked at the large dildo he'd picked up so many minutes ago. It was ribbed, he thought, it's shape all twisty and varying in girth as it went down. It had a head, round and large, and though the cock inside him had one too, it didn't seem as...  _ significant _ .

He'd never wanted to take something more.

Tom seemed to notice his preoccupation, because suddenly he pushed sharply with the dildo in and out once, then again, making Harry tremble. It felt so  _ good _ rubbing inside him, stretching him wide  _ just _ like that. His cock was hot and aching and as hard as a bloody rock, but all he could think about was the way Tom fucked the toy into him.

"I could probably make you come like this," Tom whispered. He'd bent low again, his forehead pushing against the side of Harry's head, but his hand never slowed. "All you'd need is a little touch, and maybe not even that."

Harry's eyes widened at the thought. He'd heard of that before, coming untouched, but he'd never even come close to trying it.

It felt, somehow, much more impossible than anything else Tom had promised him.

It didn't matter. Tom was pushing his hair aside, baring his nape so he could kiss and bite and then blow on the tender skin. He turned Harry's face the other way and bit at his jaw like he was hungry for him, and reached under Harry to pull on his cock.

It was just as Tom's had said. It only took once—one warm, firm stroke—and then Harry was coming all over the nice rug laid out under the table.

It seemed to go on forever. Tom let him finish, thrusting the toy in and out slowly until he felt completely wrung out and sensitive. When Harry felt his heartbeat slow, Tom pulled out the dildo, stroking his hair as he shuddered through the sensation and clenched around open air.

"Tired?" he asked gently. Harry nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows, and then watched as Tom smirked. He seemed positively  _ ravenous _ like this, unforgiving—Harry realised he'd counted himself safe far too quickly.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," Tom said. Harry swallowed hard, trying to explain that he should get going, that this was highly irregular, or maybe even that this was a mistake. He and Tom had never gotten along, not in the five years they'd spent in classrooms together, and Harry wasn't in the business of sleeping with people he didn't intend on dating.

And yet, instead of all the perfectly acceptable reasons  _ not _ to stay, what came out was, "What's next?"

Tom's grin widened, and his teeth seemed abnormally sharp in the warm lighting. "Why Harry, we simply  _ have _ to test your limits."

He lifted his hand, and when Harry looked away from Tom's face he saw that he was holding a pair of fluffy blue handcuffs. Harry swallowed hard, but didn't protest when Tom shook them and let himself be handled into position easily.

Tom pushed him onto his back this time, laying him down so that his cock was within easy reach, and handcuffed his wrists together behind his back. Harry tested them, but they held steady no matter how much he pulled. Tom set a warm hand over his thigh, his fingers pressing into the meat, and picked up an object Harry didn't really recognise until Tom flicked a button at the base.

It was a vibrator.

It buzzed continuously in Tom's hand, the sound nearly negligible except for the silence in the room. Harry moaned before it had even touched him, his skin feeling too sensitive to handle, but Tom stepped between his legs and, without pause, pressed the toy into Harry's cock.

His reaction was immediate. He bucked sharply, not sure whether he wanted to push closer or get away—all he knew was that it was too much, too intense, too soon. He gasped, thrusting his hips up again, but then Tom pushed even closer and held his hips down until he could no longer move, only squirm under the onslaught.

And still, he didn't let up.

Harry moved from gasping to moaning, begging wordlessly for Tom to do something else, to let him come or let him rest, but it was too soon to get hard, and Harry could barely breathe. He felt his mind going numb—all he could think about was the vibrations against his cock, moving up and down but never lessening or easing.

He whined, his torso moving restlessly as he tried to free his hands, but it seemed as if Tom could not look away from his flushed cock. He pressed the vibrator harder into the flesh and, when Harry started moving too much, pressed hard into the centre of Harry's stomach.

It felt like he might pass out, the feeling was so intense. Harry felt frustrated, overwhelmed tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his breathing coming in shorter and shorter gasps until his vision felt like it might be fading at the edges, until-

The door swung open. Tom straightened immediately, his hand moving away, from Harry's cock, and the relief he felt was so incredible Harry felt his eyes becoming damp, and his limbs becoming limp. He took a long minute, easing himself back into breathing right, and then dared to look at the doorway to take note of the new arrival.

The man looked a lot like Tom—so much so, that for a second Harry wondered if Tom had a secret twin nobody knew about. But then his eyes seemed to adjust, and Harry noted the light stubble, the wrinkled skin at the edges of the man's eyes, the shorter hair. This man was older, carried himself with a confidence Tom didn't possess despite all of his arrogance.

He had to be Tom's father.

Harry wanted to feel embarrassed—he really did. Here he was, probably on the man's own desk, his legs spread wide and a huge pile of sex toys waiting next to his head. He ought to jump and hide under the table, and a part of Harry wanted to do exactly that, but his limbs felt so weighty and overwhelmed that he could barely find it in himself to twitch, much less move.

Instead, he looked at the man with lazy, wet eyes and watched him near with far too little regard. Tom's father didn't even seem to notice him—he strode close, his hand reaching out to grab Tom's wrist, and tsked loudly.

"I've taught you better than this, Tom," he said. He was so close, Harry thought distantly. Harry would just have to shift his leg to touch his knee to the man's waist.

Tom shook his hand out of his father's grasp irritably. "What are you doing here," he demanded instead of replying. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The older man sighed, evidently exasperated. He turned to Harry, looking him up and down as if he might be just another toy to sell, and then looked back to the purple vibrator Tom still held in his hand.

"I saw what you were doing, just fine," Mr Riddle told his son. "That's an  _ anal _ vibrator—it's meant to go in his arse."

"I know where it's meant to go!" Tom exclaimed. "I was just playing with him-"

"If you wanted to stimulate his cock, we  _ have _ vibrating rings," Mr Riddle continued, speaking over him. "We even have those new ones, the ones you put over the head—"

Tom glared at the man. "If it does the job, I have no reason  _ not _ to do as I please," he interrupted. "Now  _ leave _ ."

Mr Riddle didn't even seem to notice what Tom had said. He placed a firm hand on Tom's shoulder, pushing him away and taking his place between Harry's legs. "Let me demonstrate," he said, and Harry wasn't even sure who he was addressing. Before he could say anything, Mr Riddle had pressed the vibrator into his arse in one smooth push and flipped it back on.

It was a different feeling altogether, Harry thought. It felt somehow less immediate, and yet nevertheless just as intense as it had been on his cock. Fortunately, it had been long enough that Harry could feel himself going hard.  _ Unfortunately _ , he didn't think it'd matter—if Tom was merciless, Mr Riddle seemed even more so.

He left the vibrator inside Harry, and moved back again so that he stood by Harry's side. "Go on then," he told Tom. "Please him properly."

But Tom didn't move. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Harry, and then at the pile of toys next to him. "I think that I've done enough pleasing," he said slowly. 

He reached out and grabbed Harry's hair, pulling him up until he sat. Harry moaned—he hadn't realised it might feel so good to have someone pulling his hair, but he found the sharp pull going straight to his cock. Tom reached for something behind him, and laid a fierce kiss on Harry's open mouth before fitting a ring between his lips.

It was large—large enough to make his jaw ache, but when he tried to bite down the metal pushed into the back of his teeth and kept his mouth wide. Tom fastened the straps behind his head and then moved back to survey him.

Harry felt his mouth going wet, and with the way both Riddles were looking at him, he wanted nothing more than to hide his face. But he couldn’t, not with his hands bound behind his back, and Tom's hand keeping his head high, so all Harry could do was try and fail to keep the sounds in.

It was hard. The vibrator pushed deeper into him like this, and Harry could feel his orgasm building with the way it stimulated his arse so constantly. He couldn't keep the moans in like this, couldn't bite his lip or clench his teeth or muffle the noises, and the volume of his own cries made his skin flush a deep red.

Tom looked back at Mr Riddle—like he wanted approval but didn't want to admit it to himself. Mr Riddle was too busy looking at Harry, his eyes sharp and blazing all at once. He reached and cupped the back of Harry's neck, and without a word pushed him down until he lay back on his stomach—his arse hanging off one end of the table, and his mouth over the other.

"An excellent idea," Mr Riddle said, rather belatedly. Nobody seemed to care. He walked over to Harry's face, crouching down in front of him, and smiled kindly.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, as if they were talking about some exotic fruit and not a sex toy.

Harry shook his head. Behind him, Tom pressed a finger to the base of the vibrator, making him jerk and clench down on it.

Mr Riddle traced a finger around the edge of his lips, stretched wide and feeling all the more sensitive for it. "It's a ring gag," he said, then tapped his finger once over Harry's tongue. "And I'll show you what it's for in short order."

He stood up. Like this, Harry's face was level with his crotch, and when the man reached for his fly, Harry realised he didn't need Mr Riddle to explain anything to him after all.

Mr Riddle's cock was longer than the dildo, Harry thought. Perhaps that was just because it was going in his mouth as opposed to his arse, but Harry couldn't help but despair over it fitting inside him, even as he found himself salivating.

Mr Riddle stepped close, close enough that the head of his cock pressed into Harry's cheek, but he didn't push into Harry's mouth yet, and Harry took advantage of that.

He stuck his tongue out, as far as it would go, and licked at Mr Riddle's balls.

Above him, the man groaned and pushed closer. Harry did it again, and again—he couldn't do much else, of course, but Mr Riddle seemed eased with the effort anyway. He let Harry press his open mouth to the space just under his cock, let him lick at the head, and then—after long minutes of build-up, pressed the head of his cock into Harry's mouth.

Harry wanted to close his mouth around it, but he couldn't. He suddenly realised what power this toy gave to his partner—Harry could try all he'd like, but he couldn't suck Mr Riddle deeper or harder, couldn't do anything but take exactly what he was given when he was given it.

Harry groaned around Mr Riddle's cock, and at the other end of the table, Tom took hold of the vibrator to tug at it and twist it slowly, like he was easing it out of Harry's arse.

He took his time too, playing with Harry mercilessly until he felt like crying, and for a split second Harry wondered if this kind of thing was passed down from parent to child. He felt like he'd come any second now, but Tom seemed to sense how close he was and draw him back with a pinch here, a sharp slap there, keeping him at the edge for what seemed like forever.

Mr Riddle was pushing in and out, slowly, barely enough of his cock in Harry's mouth to fill it up, and Harry wished they'd  _ hurry up already _ .

They didn't. Tom took his sweet time pulling the vibrator out of his arse, and when he finally pulled it free, he immediately pressed it to Harry's perineum. It made him jerk again, made Mr Riddle push his cock suddenly deeper into him, and just as the man managed to get the whole thing inside, Tom pushed his own cock up Harry's arse.

He felt like he was overcome. Mr Riddle was in his throat, so deep inside Harry he couldn't breathe, and everything narrowed in on the two men fucking him. He couldn't think about anything else except the way his throat swallowed around Mr Riddle's cock, the way that Tom was so deep inside him he was sure he'd never be able to forget it, even after he’d long since left. They started thrusting, Tom fast and Mr Riddle slow, and Harry felt himself feeling fainter and more dazed.

He let himself go limp, let Mr Riddle position his face how he liked and use it as he pleased. The man sped up, fucking into Harry's mouth hard, and Tom did the same. He wanted to come so badly, but at the same time his own orgasm just didn't seem like a priority anymore. Mr Riddle petted his hair and pulled at it in random intervals, and Harry found himself craving both.

Mr Riddle came first. He came in Harry's mouth and then stayed there until Tom was coming too. Tom thrust into Harry through his orgasm, fucking him until there was nothing left to give. When he was done he picked up the vibrator again—Harry heard him switch it back on, and pressed it once again to Harry's cock.

It took him seconds to come. Mr Riddle pulled out, and Harry's mouth felt so wet and messy that he was sure that he was drooling, but he couldn't bring himself to care or do anything about it. Instead, he let any remaining tension drain out of his bones along with his orgasm, and suddenly he felt incredibly exhausted.

Mr Riddle's hand petted his hair, and as soon as he undid the strap around Harry's head, he felt himself drifting off.

* * *

He woke up slowly, so warm and comfortable that it took him a second to realise his hands were bound above his head, and his legs spread apart. He pulled on the restraints, looking sleepily up at the material that tied him to the headboard, but he didn't quite realise what was happening until someone opened the door, and Harry felt himself wake up properly.

"Tom?" he gasped. Tom didn't answer, coming close and putting down a tray onto the bedside table next to him. When he moved back, Harry could tell that there were multiple objects on it—one which caught his attention in particular.

A long, thick caricature of a cock, ribbed and painted a hue that faded from the bright purple head to the deep green base. It looked like a monster's cock might, if monsters existed. It looked like it would break Harry in two.

He looked back at Tom, at Mr Riddle, who had come in to stand at the doorway silently.

Tom smirked. "I did promise that we could make it fit," he said.


End file.
